


To Build a Bridge (Brick by Brick)

by Angrydollface, sara_holmes, USSFriendship



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Telepathy, Deaf Clint Barton, Getting Together, M/M, Magical Fuckery, misuse of Lego, winterhawk - Freeform, wizards are assholes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 05:32:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18243362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angrydollface/pseuds/Angrydollface, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_holmes/pseuds/sara_holmes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/USSFriendship/pseuds/USSFriendship
Summary: A run-in with a newly minted wizard leave Clint a little out of his head, and Bucky a little in it.





	To Build a Bridge (Brick by Brick)

**Author's Note:**

> For the WinterHawk Round Robin. Better late than never.

In Clint’s defence, everything prior to the incident with the magic wand was not his fault. 

He’d been roused from sleep at around 11 by his phone shrilly demanding that he pay it attention, clattering across his bedside table with the force of the vibration. He grabbed it with one hand, clumsily put in a hearing aid with the other and then tried to answer it. When it didn’t connect to a call, just carried on vibrating with enough force to make his whole hand judder, he squinted at the screen and saw it was in fact not a call but an Avengers alert.

Multitasking like a pro, he’d gotten dressed, got a full quiver of arrows together and downed his usual morning fix of coffee straight from the carafe. He managed to make his phone stop screaming so he could call Cap, getting a terse, “Get out of bed and to Manhattan, there’s a wizard trying to take over the City using mind control.”

He’d managed to get there just in time to stop a middle aged woman attacking a member of the NYPD with her handbag, and also stopped a ninety year old woman smashing her cane through the front window of a police cruiser. Slightly concerned about the fact that the bad guys were actually mind-controlled civilians, he paused long enough to get smacked in the head by both handbag and cane, then zip tied both women’s hands together and locked them in the back of the car. Once restrained, they seemed to calm right down, sitting and staring blankly and not responding to anything or anyone.

First contact dealt with, Clint had then turned to try and find the rest of the Avengers. He’d taken one step before Sam had landed in front of him, wearing a strange metal helmet that honestly looked ridiculous when paired with his Falcon goggles. He laughed right until Sam held out a matching helmet and told him to put it on or end up getting mind-controlled.

“Why is your nose bleeding already?” Sam had asked.

“Not my fault,” Clint told him. “Old lady with a cane.”

Sam stared. “You got beaten up by an old lady.”

“She was mind controlled! I didn’t know what to do!”

Sam had grinned at that. “You’re not the only one, Steve has told Bucky that all contact must be non-lethal and he’s literally got no idea how to deal with that.”

“Well his only shtick is scowling and murdering,” Clint had shrugged. “He might as well just go home.”

The radio strapped to Sam’s chest had crackled to life and Steve's rather pissed-off voice had told them to get a move on, and so Clint had jammed the ugly mind-control helmet on and jumped into the fray. He’d spent the entire afternoon wrestling angry New Yorkers who, for some reason, had taken offence at the mere existence of the NYPD and were doing their damndest to wipe them out. Despite the sheer number of affected people, no-one put up too much of a fight, the wizard wasn’t that hard to track down and by mid afternoon it was all over.

Clint had joined the team where they’d ended up in the lobby of a hotel, all of them gathered around the wizard, who was in handcuffs and scowling mutinously at everyone. A glowing staff laid on the floor next to him, looking more like a prop from Lord of the Rings than an actual ancient artefact.

Steve had taken point on interrogating the wizard, which had honesty raised more questions than could be answered. “So, you tried to get the whole of New York to take down the NYPD because your car got towed and you think it’s their fault?”

“Yes,” the wannabe-Gandalf had said, sounding sullen. “I have my rights. I am being discriminated against, and this is brutality, I want to speak to my lawyer.”

Steve had stared the wizard into shutting up, then turned to the rest of the team. “Iron Man, check in with the Commissioner and assist the police in any way you can. Widow, take this idiot to SHIELD. Hawkeye, get his staff and take that to SHIELD too.”

“What do I do?” a voice behind him asked and Clint had jumped a mile, not expecting the Winter Soldier to be right behind him. How the guy managed to sneak up on people while wearing combat boots, Clint wouldn’t ever know. 

“Jesus, fuck, could you not do that,” he had snapped, because he was tired and his nose hurt and he didn’t really like Bucky Barnes all that much anyway, let alone when the guy was invading his personal space. 

“I’m trying to help,” Barnes scowled.

“You can help me and Falcon, we’re going down to free the civilians that we restrained,” Cap had said.

And now, in the last single moment where Clint can be sure that he’s completely blame free, he bends down to pick up the staff he’s been told to hand over to SHIELD. He hefts it up and swings it around, and in a rare moment of misjudging distance, he manages to clock Barnes straight in the face.

The moment it connects, there’s blast of light and Clint and Barnes both go flying. The staff clatters to the ground and Clint is slammed against a wall.

He slumps to the floor, winded and clutching his ribs. “Okay,” he coughs out. “That one’s on me.”

Steve runs over, trying to piece together what’s going on from the scene in front of him and the bits he caught out of the corner of his eye. 

“Bucky what th-“ Steve starts, but is cut off by Clint. 

“Aw, Barnes. I didn’t know you cared.” The archer has a goofy look on his face, a dopey half smile that turns to a grimace each time he inhales. He’s got his left arm wrapped around his chest, clearly holding his ribs, and his right is holding his left shoulder. It doesn’t really work and he slips sideways before giving up completely and laying down. Just for a minute.

“Clint, punching you halfway through a wall for knocking him in the head with a stick when he should have never been there in the first place isn’t caring.” An incredibly exasperated Steve throws a glare at Bucky - who, for his part, is just standing looking gobsmacked - before dashing over to check on Clint. 

“No, that’s not- MOTHERFUTZER! What the actual hell, Steve?!” Steve had helped Clint up to a sitting position, but had clearly jostled something. “No, no,” he says, starting again, “that’s not what I meant. Barnes said something was wrong, that I’d never be wrong about a distance or trajectory like that. I mean, I didn’t do it on purpose, so I clearly was, but I appreciate the vote of confidence. Damn, too many words. Ow.” 

Bucky watches the archer talk with a look of pure terror on his face. Partly because Clint gets noticeably more pale with every word, and partly because while he hasn’t said a damn word, he has had that exact thought. 

“So, if Bucky didn’t punch you for whacking him in the head, what happened?” 

At that, Bucky pulls his attention from Clint to roll his eyes at Steve, but before he can say anything Clint starts talking again. 

“Yeah, no joke, Stevie’s lost his damn mind.” 

“Since when do you call Cap ‘Stevie?’” Sam asks. He’s rocked up to situation at some point, and is now crouched in front of Clint, giving him a quick once over and making sure he doesn’t need to be rushed back to the tower and the medical wing. 

“I don’t, I was just agreeing with Barnes.”

Sam sits back on his heels and looks at Clint. Keeping his face and voice neutral. “Clint, frosty back there didn’t say anything.” 

“Futzing great. Of course not. Guess I’m a little more messed up than I thought. Let’s get this cleaned up and I promise I’ll go to medical when we get back to the tower.”

“No, Clint.” Steve rings out in full Captain America voice. “You clearly have busted ribs and obviously have a concussion. You’re done. As soon as the medics can, they’re taking you back to the tower.”

No sooner has Steve finished talking than two EMTs walk up carrying a stretcher. Even Clint knows it’s fruitless to argue, so he just goes with it. It’ll be easier just to sneak off when they get back to the tower, anyway, so he sits there patiently while the very nice medics look him over and cooperates when they strap him to the stretcher. 

The next thing he knows, he’s waking up in a bed in tower medical, IV in the back of his right hand and his left arm in a sling, secured very tightly around his torso. Apparently the medical staff have gotten wise to his tricks and just drug him before he can run. Great. It was probably Nat’s idea. 

He quickly takes stock; he’s not wearing his aids, his arm is strapped down tight enough he won’t be able to get out of it by himself or take out his IV - definitely Nat’s idea - and he’s feeling no pain, but his head is swimmy, so he’s on the good drugs. There is no way he can make it through a vent, and surely there is enough staff around to keep him from just walking out. 

“Fine, I guess I’ll just stay here,” he says to no one, and tries to flop back on the bed indignantly, but he’s already laying down, so nothing really happens. 

~*~

Bucky watches Clint through the tiny rectangular window in the door, trying to figure out what the hell to do now. Clint has somehow known what Bucky was thinking, which is worrisome, but they were pretty obvious thoughts, so that explains it. Maybe. Not really. And he stands by his opinion that Barton wouldn’t just misjudge his distance from Bucky. So what the hell happened, aside from “magic.” Just thinking it makes him feel weird, and he suddenly understands why just talking about it makes Tony so uncomfortable. 

Well, he isn’t going to accomplish anything creeping on Barton through the window, so he may as well go in and see what Clint’s take on this whole fluster cluck is. 

He steels himself for...something, and pushes open the door to Barton’s room. 

“So, uh, you’re awake.” Smooth, Barnes. 

“I don’t have my aids in, I don’t even know where they are, and you are too far away for me to try and read your lips. Especially while I’m on the good drugs.”

‘Again, smooth, Barnes,’ Bucky chastises himself. Of course he wouldn’t have his aids in, he’s supposed to be resting. 

Clint stiffens in his bed and tries, futilely, to sit up. “Futz, Ok, I heard that. I heard that and I’m deaf and your lips didn’t move.” Clint continues to thrash a bit, trying to get out of his prone position. Hell, the sling is like a straight jacket and he hates feeling helpless. 

“Barton, you are never helpless,” Bucky starts before remembering Clint can’t hear him. Then he realizes Barton hadn’t actually spoken, even though Bucky heard him. 

What the actual hell is going on?

Clint settles for a moment and just stares at Bucky, eyes wide and wild as his thoughts swim lazily through the syrupy mess of his brain. ‘This has to be a dream, Barnes doesn’t come visit when I’m hurt...I’m hurt right? Maybe if I just concentrate hard enough.’ Clint looks down at his arm, finding it still tightly strapped in a sling, IV in his other hand as his brain continues its sluggish spiral into panic, now completely ignoring Bucky’s existence.

Bucky had stopped all movement when Clint had, holding his breath as his thoughts start racing in his own mind. ‘What the everloving hell is happening?’ crashes into ‘This has to be a dream’ and Bucky is left wondering how he’s become the only witness to this train wreck waiting to happen, as other thoughts continue intruding into his mind. 

“I don’t know,” Clint whispers looking up at Bucky and narrowing his eyes as he carefully looks over the man just inside the room, door closed behind him. Bucky is in most of his tactical gear, sans some equipment and weapons, because he wanted to figure this shit show out sooner than later. Clint tilts his head, mentally adding 2 + 2 to 6 as his eyes move over Bucky.

Bucky lets his breath out slowly, trying to regain some calm as Clint’s panic amps up, threat assessments stuttering across some sort of bizarro magical link that makes Bucky’s skin crawl. 

‘Jesus you need to calm down,’ he thinks which just spins Clint into more of a spiral because-

“How do you know how I feel? You don’t know me!” Bucky can’t help but roll his eyes at the whole situation but he stays rooted in place, not sure if moving towards Clint would be a smart idea at the moment. They really did give Clint the good drugs. Unfortunately this was turning into a bad trip. 

‘Ok this is not a dream, this is a mother fucking nightmare. Barnes wouldn’t be caught dead visiting me, someone sent the Winter Soldier to finish the job because putting me through a wall wasn’t enough and this sling has a mind of its own and won’t let me go and the blankets are alive and he can read minds. This is a nightmare, how do you get out of nightmares?!’ Clint tries to kick away the hospital blankets covering his legs, the sling tightening more around his arm as he struggles. 

‘Stop!’ growls through Clint’s mind, halting his losing battle with the blankets. Clint pants slightly, out of breath after his foray into blanket wrestling. 

“Nope, this is not happening. I am not playing along with this futzing crap any longer, I WANT A BETTER DREAM,” Clint comes close to yelling as he throws up his unbound arm, hand flailing in frustration and causing the finger monitor clipped to his finger to go flying across the room. Clint and Bucky watch as it forms a perfect arc and lands in the empty trash can.

‘Nice shot,’ Bucky thinks.

“Thanks,” Clint replies frowning as the stat monitor starts to blink insistently, already starting to grate on his nerves. Clint closes his eyes against the annoying bright light, sighing. ‘This is a dream and I’m going to count to 10 and when I open my eyes, it’s going to be different’, he tells himself.

Bucky takes this as a sign of divine intervention and high tails it out of the room before Clint can open his eyes again. What was he thinking? This whole fiasco has left him with more questions than answers, though now he has a little more of an idea of what’s going on. But was that how Clint really sees him? Bucky scowls darkly as he passes a nurse on the way to Clint’s room, he needs to go shoot something.

 

Clint blinks his eyes slowly as the door opens to his room and a nurse hussles in, bright blonde hair swinging in a ponytail behind her head as she smiles widely at Clint. She signs a quick hello as she moves to the stat monitor to see why the machine is beeping and raises an eyebrow questioning at Clint as she fishes the finger monitor out of the trash can. He shrugs in answer as she walks back towards him. She clips it on his finger and then opens up the drawer of the table beside the bed and hands Clint his hearing aids, which he dutifully puts in.

“So how are you feeling?” she asks, putting both hands on her hips and waiting for Clint’s reply.

“Right as rain, when’s the doc coming around so I can get this show on the road?” Clint quips, trying to make her believe that he’s here out of his own volition and not because he’s been injured yet again. Everything still feels swimmy and like it’s a dream.

“The doctor will be here later doing his rounds, but I’m pretty sure he wants to keep you overnight for observation since you got knocked on the head pretty good.”

Clint groans, looking up at the ceiling. “It’s not like I haven’t had a concussion before.”

“Exactly,” she responds, moving around Clint’s bed and straightening out his blankets. “Need anything?”

“Uh yeah, to be in my own bed,” Clint mutters, knowing full well that the nurse is not going to let him go.

“Strictest orders to keep you here, Clint,” the nurse crosses her arms and shakes her head “And it’s not the doctor I’m worried about. When the Black Widow tells you to do something, you listen.”

Suspicion confirmed, damnit Tasha. The nurse starts moving towards the door, having fixed the beeping stat monitor and having no obvious reason to stay. 

“Hey before you go, was there someone in my room before you got here?”

“No, I don’t think so. Expecting someone?”

Clint frowns, rubbing his hand over his eyes “No not really. I’m sure Natasha will be down soon.”

“Get some rest, Clint,” the nurse smiles and then leaves the room. 

Clint wakes up drug-free and feeling like he’s been hit by a bus. His left arm aches, his whole back feels like one giant bruise and he’s got a headache that feels like someone trying to drill through his eyeball.

The good news, however, is that now he’s on less mind-melting painkillers, he can wriggle free of the blankets without too much difficulty. Holding onto the IV stand for both physical and emotional support, he shifts around to look at the chart pinned to the edge of his bed.

“Concussion, blah, blah, no broken bones, possible muscle strain, yada yada...keep in for observation? Yeah, screw that.” He tosses the chart onto the bed, pulls the IV out of his hand, puts his hearing aids back in and starts looking around for his clothes. He’s not too worried about finding them; he’s travelled home in a hospital gown before and he’ll do it again.

‘Barton.’

He jumps at the sound of his name, wheeling around. “Hello?” He calls cautiously when he doesn’t see anyone. Frowning, he edges to the doorway, looking left and right down the deserted corridors. Perfect for making a break for it, less perfect for finding out who called his name.

He finds his clothes stashed in a cupboard and gets dressed, trying to piece together the events of the day before. Lots of fuzzy parts, some complete blanks. What he does remember is the magician, accidentally hitting Bucky with the staff, Steve making him go to medical then not a whole lot else. He has a feeling someone came to check on him but can’t pinpoint who; he’d place his bets on Steve or Nat.

He escapes from medical with relative ease and is in a cab heading back towards home feeling very pleased for himself when everything goes wrong. The cab driver slams on the brakes and Clint gets up close and personal with the seat back in front of him.

“What the hell?” He grouches and then shuts up as the door opens and Steve climbs in.

“Uh, the doctor said-” Clint begins.

“Nice try,” Steve says, giving him a glare. “I was coming to break you out and turns out you’d already escaped.”

“Break me out? Why?”

Steve nods grimly at the driver. “About turn, back to Avengers Tower,” he says, and Clint sighs, thinking mournfully of his apartment and more importantly, his bed. 

“Can’t I just go home?”

“No,” Steve says shortly, “because Bucky has gone AWOL and I need your help finding him.”

“What? He’s gone missing? Why? Where?”

“If I knew where, he wouldn’t be missing,” Steve says, looking harried. He’s leaning forwards, scanning the streets ahead of him. “He was all freaked out by something and he wouldn’t tell me. Next thing I know he’s gone.”

Freaked out? Clint frowns, a vague memory threatening to surface. Bucky being freaked out. A pale, terrified face.

Wait, did Bucky come and see him in the medical? Now that just makes no sense. 

‘Barton.’

“What?” He asks, and when Steve doesn’t answer he nudges him will his elbow. “What?”

“What?” Steve asks.

“You said my name.”

Steve gives him a funny look. “No I didn’t.”

Clint looks around, bewildered. “Did you say my name?” He asks the driver. “Did you say Barton?”

“I don’t know your real name, Hawkguy,” the driver says. “But I know your pal is gonna make me real stressed out if he don’t sit back.”

Steve immediately slumps back, chastised. He looks over at Clint. “Maybe you need to go back to medical,” he says.

“No, I’m fine, I’ll help find Bucky,” Clint says, hoping that Steve’s need to find Bucky outweighs his concerns about Clint’s concussion and hearing-voices thing that he seems to have got going on.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Steve says.

They ride back to Avengers Tower, Steve still watching out of the windows like he’s going to be able to spot Bucky in the Manhattan crowds. Clint sits fiddling with his hearing aids, like they could be responsible for the things he keeps hearing. 

When they arrive, they’ve barely been let in through the outer doors before they’re being accosted by the rest of the team, all spilling out of the elevators. For a moment, Clint thinks they’re all here to corral him back to the hospital; he can just imagine them each grabbing an arm or a leg and carrying him back.

But then Tony says, “level three alert, the Wizard’s escaped.”

“What?” Steve asks. “Are you kidding me?”

“The parking ticket guy?” Clint asks, equally as flummoxed.

“Yes, apparently he’s more than just an idiot with a magical staff,” Natasha says. 

Sam nods. “And you want the bad news?”

“That wasn’t the bad news?”

“No,” Natasha says grimly. “The bad news is that he’s no longer after the NYPD but after us.”

“After us and Bucky’s missing,” Steve says. “Great.”

“Aw, wizard, no,” Clint sighs. “Alright, are we officially suiting up or are we just gonna stand here all day?”.

“Suiting up it is,” Steve says, straightening up and looking serious. “Avengers, assemble.”

Clint groans and lets his head fall back against the headrest, only to be sharply reminded of the fact that he has a concussion and his painkillers are wearing off. Futzing spectacular. He lifts his head up again, and tries to take stock of his situation. 

‘OK. I'm concussed, I can't raise my left arm, I can't take a deep breath, and my brain is doing a damn good Keith Moon impression. Barnes is gone. I'm back in uniform for the second time today, crammed in transport van headed for a rampaging wizard that is gunning - casting? - for the Avengers. Steve is currently babysitting me, watching me like he is waiting for me to keel over. I'm on exactly enough drugs to be able to draw a bowstring and that’s it, and I think they are making me hallucinate. Not great but nowhere near the worst I've been through.’

Having completely forgotten the lesson he learned thirty seconds ago, Clint groans again and let's his head thunk back against the headrest again. Before the new jab of pain registers, though, he hears a growl of ‘BARTON. No!’

“No what, Steve?” Clint is trying, really, to keep the irritation out of his voice. 

“What? No what?” Steve's bewildered expression and vaguely hurt voice let Clint know he had done a bad job of keeping the irritation out of his voice. 

“What what ‘no’- wait. No. You know what, I am not going down this weird Abbott and Costello rabbit hole.” Once Clint got started he just went ahead opened the floodgates, letting the whole damn rant free, thoughts falling from his lips before his brain had a chance to process them. “I'm tired and sore and I just escaped medical after being put halfway through a wall and now I have to help stop a bitchy, butthurt wizard from covering Avengers Tower in jello, or whatever it is unhinged wizard pricks do. When that little adventure is over, I get to track down an AWOL formerly brainwashed super spysassin because I am the leading expert on the subject, and ain’t that a futzin’ thing? ‘S not like I'd ever be anyone’s first choice for the job.”

Steve just blinks at him for a bit, before slowly blowing out a breath. “Uh, wow. OK. Well, first, Abbott & Costello?” Steve levels an almost impish smile at him, “You sure pulled that one outta the way back machine, because I got that reference, even if I think it’s a stretch here. Second, Clint, what the hell are you talking about? Third, hopefully we won't have to fight a bitchy wizard. And, lastly, not only are you my first choice for bringing in Bucky, you were Coulson’s first choice for bringing in Natasha.”

“No, I was Coulson’s first choice for killing Natasha. I'm a weapon, not a bloodhound.” Clint is being petulant and he knows it, he just doesn't care. “Whatever, tell the driver where to take us, and then we’re off to see the Wizard, I guess.”

-*-

Somewhere else in the city, Bucky was walking. Where, specifically, no one knew, not even Bucky himself. After walking out of Clint’s room, he had just kept going. Out the door, on to the crowded sidewalk, he fit himself into a group of people and moved with them until they stopped, at which point he turned to follow the block, so he could just keep walking. He keeps his focus on his feet and the ground in front of him, so he doesn't read street signs, because the the last thought he had was the realization that if he thought about where he was or where he was going, Clint would know, making the whole leaving thing pointless. 

So, he keeps walking, keeps not thinking, and keeps trying to listen for Clint, though he hasn't gotten much so far, just a vague sense of confusion and pain, and even that hasn't come through in a bit. He slows down a bit at that realization, just starting to wonder if he was far enough away to no longer hear Clint’s thoughts, when a frank cataloging of his situation booms through Bucky’s mind, the tone resigned and exhausted. Clint sounds exactly like someone who is about to do something stupid and get themselves hurt, and Bucky cannot allow that, especially since he is part of the something stupid. 

Unfortunately the only response he could come up with was “Barton. No!” like he was trying to correct the behavior a particularly naughty puppy. It tracks, though, as he has never been able to stop stubborn blonde morons from running headfirst into a fight they have no hope of winning on their own, and all he can do now is the same thing he’s been doing his whole life: follow the idiot into the fight and hope they come out on top. 

He can't follow, this time, though. Not yet, at least, because he has no idea where he’s supposed to be going; Clint didn't bother to let him know where the Wizard was. If anyone knew what the hell was going on with the mind reading, he’d be embarrassed by how long it took him to realize he could just ask.

‘Barton, where are you going? Where is the Wizard? Don't do anything stupid until I get there.’

Clint closes his eyes with a huff, trying to ground himself with the movement of the transport van and think about nothing, trying to regain some of his lost focus. The team had split up to make themselves a harder target for the wizard, Sam and Tony flying and Natasha grabbing her Harley from the garage. Clint expects a sitrep to come from the comms any moment now as the wizard isn’t actually that far away from Avengers tower. 

‘Barton, where are you going? Where is the Wizard? Don't do anything stupid until I get there.’

Clint cracks an eyelid looking towards Steve, finding him lost in a thousand yard stare, probably running through angles and tactics to get everyone out of harm’s way. Clint shakes his head, trying not to laugh at the predicament he’s in. He’s really starting to lose his marbles, isn’t he? 

‘I’ve never had hallucinations be so persistent before’ 

‘Oh for the love of.. Clint you idiot, it’s Bucky!’ the voice growls in a familiar annoyed tone. 

‘Barnes? Why would you be in my head?’ Clint scrunches up his face in confusion.

‘Barton, location, now’

‘Geez, maybe you are Barnes, no one else gets so murderous so easily’ Clint grumbles in his head. ‘Lego store, West 23rd street. What maniac decided to draw the Avengers out to a Lego store for a battle for futz sakes?’

It feels like an eternity of road noise and honking before the simple reply comes: ‘On route’

Clint rubs his hands over his face, feeling the panic rising. 

“Falcon and Iron man in the air, NYPD have blocked off 5th avenue and West 23rd Street to evacuate civilians away from the scene. They are leaving the wizard to us,” Sam’s voice breaks the silence.

“No visual, J-man confirms it’s the wizard but the feeds to the store have been fried, scans show it’s just him in the store but there are civilians in the upper levels of the building,” Tony supplies.

“Determining secondary building access to get inside,” Widow pipes up.

“We need to get this contained quickly, get the civilians out and draw the wizard towards the plaza where less damage can be done.” Steve’s brain is working quickly on a plan. “Think you could get his attention, Iron man?” 

“My pleasure, Cap”

“Widow, Falcon work on evac first, wizard secondary. Me, Iron man and Hawkeye will keep the wizard’s attention.”

The transport van rolls to a stop and Steve starts moving towards the door, “This is our stop, Hawkeye.” 

‘Captain America voice engaged,’ Clint muses to himself as he forces himself up and out of the transport van as a huff of amusement echoes through his head. He’s not sure he’s gonna get used to this at all. Cap is already striding past the police line and towards the plaza while pulling his shield from his back, Clint picks up his pace and follows as quickly as his aching body will manage. 

Bells toll loudly in the sky, Iron Man circling around buildings before making a dramatic drop to the ground in a classic superhero landing direct front and center of the store, AC DC’s “Hells Bells” screeching through his external speakers. The impact of his suit hitting the ground setting off car alarms around the block, a move that must have caught the entire city’s attention. 

Clint feels a rush, like everything around him is disappearing into clear focus as he looks around for higher ground, but the Lego store faces the Flatiron Public Plaza and beyond that Madison Square park, there really isn’t any higher ground to be had. Suddenly Clint starts to feel like he’s in a vacuum being pulled towards the store which moves his attention there just as the Lego store windows implode, reverse direction and send thick shards of glass out into the world as dangerous projectiles in a booming shockwave. Clint hits the ground hard on his back, several pieces of glass embedded in his flesh and the world goes dark around the edges as he struggles to get air back into his lungs and his ears begin to ring. ‘I just can’t win,’ flashes across his mind.

He slowly becomes aware of the sound of heavy boots running his way as he struggles up onto his elbows and looks up dazed as Bucky comes into view.

“I told you not to do anything stupid until I got here, Barton.”

Clint blinks up at him, his brain taking a moment to process what was said. “You couldn't’ve been too far ‘way,” Clint slurs. 

“Jesus, just what you needed, a concussion on top of a concussion.” Bucky carefully gives Clint a once over to make sure that none of his other injuries are serious before hauling him up onto his feet. 

Globs of different colored goo start to slink and slide their way out of the broken windows, smaller globs joining with larger ones as they move towards their targets. Iron man and Cap had recovered quickly and had regrouped in front of the Lego store and are now joined by Falcon. Clint realizes that the blast managed to knock out his comms and he has no idea what’s happening but the scene does not look good. Every time one of the the globs is hit they break apart, but then they just rejoin each other again, and they’re becoming bigger and bigger by the minute. 

“What the hell are those?” Bucky asks in horror.

Clint wobbles on his feet, squinting at the globs and then tilting his head, causing the whole world to spin, thinking of legos being squished like bubble gum and the feeling of legos sharp under his foot. 

Bucky catches Clint before he falls over, steadying him on his feet but not letting go. “I think you’re right,” Bucky states, agreeing with Clint’s assessment that the wizard was in fact using Legos against them in a new and creative way.

Falcon is stomping at some of the smaller globs but it only flattens them for a moment before they pop up again. One of the larger globs has Cap’s shield halfway embedded in its middle and it is not giving it back, and Iron Man has another swallowing the left boot of his suit, his repulsors doing nothing but spreading the mess around.

The satisfying sound of electricity enters the air followed by a loud yelp and a thump. The globs stop moving and start to harden back into their plastic selves. Everyone stops to look towards the store to find Black Widow standing over the wizard, her electroshock batons in hand.

“Boys and their toys,” Nat says, twirling the batons around. “Can't be trusted with-” 

She doesn't get to finish. The Wizard moves shockingly quickly for someone who should be nothing more than a puddle of electrified mush. He grabs his staff and shouts something unintelligible, and before anyone can move Nat is encased in a literal suit of legos, more and more joining with rapid clicks.

“Nat!” Steve shouts and runs towards her, leaving his shield embedded in the block of legos that had been goo not ten seconds ago. The wizard screams something else and more lego pieces fly towards Cap, slowly burying him and Sam in an ever increasing pile. 

“Hey, knock it off!”Tony shouts, shaking legos off of his boot. “Only good boys get to play with legos!”

“You ruin everything!” the wizard shouts, literally staggering upright just so he can stamp his feet. “All I wanted was an apology from the police and you ruined it! Captain America called me an idiot! You should show more respect! I demand more respect!”

He brandishes the staff towards Tony, who ducks a wave of lego. Nat is gasping as the weight of the lego on her slowly becomes unbearable. Steve is barely visible, swimming against a tide of blocks. Sam is nowhere to be seen. 

‘Barnes,’ Clint thinks desperately. ‘We need to get that staff off of him. He's too powerful with it.’

There's a long silence and then Bucky seems to resign himself to something inevitable, exhaling heavily. 

‘You're right,’ Bucky replies, sounding distant. ‘Distract him.’

‘Copy,’ Clint says silently. ‘Wait, are you okay?’

‘Not now,’ Bucky snaps back and moves. For a moment, Clint thinks he's running off again but then realises that Bucky's trying to sneak around and flank the wizard. 

‘Ohhh, I get it,’ he thinks, then turns his attention to the Wizard, cupping his hands around his mouth to shout, “Hey, Wizard, what's your name?”

The wizard freezes. The blocks he'd been hurling at Iron Man all drop to the floor with a clatter. The ocean of legos trying to drown Steve and Sam stops churning and the block encasing Nat stops growing, letting her catch a breath.

“I am Glornak the Great,” the Wizard says hotly.

“Okay, but we didn't know that,” Clint says, slowly putting the arrow he was holding back in his quiver. “We can't show you the right amount of respect if we don't know your name.’

“Oh,” Glornak says, sounding wrong-footed for a moment.

“And the NYPD can't issue you a formal apology if they don't know exactly who they're apologising to.”

‘Keep it up Barton, you're a genius.’

Clint has to work at keeping the smile off his face, pleasantly surprised at Barnes’ confidence in him. He clears his throat. “I mean, they probably wouldn't even have given you a ticket if they'd known it was you.”

“The NYPD don't even deal with parking tickets,” Tony interjects.

“Shut up!” Glornak screeches, and all the lego churns, the plastic clacking and rattling ominously. “Shut up, I'm talking to Hawkguy! He's the only one making any sense around here!”

‘Wow. Hawkeye talking sense? Today is definitely the end of days,’ Bucky's voice says dryly. 

‘Hey what happened to me being a genius?`

‘I think it comes and goes,’ says Bucky's voice. ‘Sort of like my ability to deal with the fact we're telepathically bonded.’

“So, talk to me some more, Glornak,” Clint shouts out loud. “Ignore Iron Man. We can work this out.”

“Yes,” Glornak says, shooting Tony a spiteful look before turning his attention back to Clint. “I will talk to you. Let's go. I have a lair.” 

He waves the staff around and a wave of lego rises and scoops him up, carrying him forwards towards Clint.

Clint looks around, alarmed. ‘Barnes where are you?!`

‘Moving around, flanking. Keep him busy!’

Glornak comes to rest in front of Clint, who takes a step back. “Uh, any chance we can talk it out right here?”

‘Barnes, hurry up! Just shoot him! You love shooting things!’

‘Too risky!’

Glornak pulls a face. “No. Your friends ruin everything. They call me names and show me no respect.”

“Okay, well, I think you're great, but I'm not a huge fan of lairs,” Clint says. “Look, fresh air! Let's go for a walk and find the Commissioner. Or maybe a medic? I'm pretty sure there's still glass in my face.”

Glornaks eyes narrow. “No,” he says, conjuring magical restraints quicker than Clint can blink. “You're on my side, so you're coming with me.”

There's a flash of green light and Clint hears Bucky's agonised shout of ‘no!ʼ echo through his mind. The last thing he's aware of is being able to feel Barnes shock and rage and hurt, and he just about has time to say ‘sorry you didn't get to stab the guy,’ before he and the Wizard vanish. 

Clint has always been strangely proud of the fact he is difficult to kidnap, and even more difficult to keep kidnapped. All jokes aside, in addition to being a highly capable spy who has been trained in both avoiding and escaping capture, he is strong and flexible and usually able to either punch his way out of trouble, or give it the slip all together. Plus, he has a far greater head for strategy than people give him credit for, though that is mostly by design, and maybe a little because he is a human disaster. 

Hell, this isn’t even the only time he’s volunteered as tribute - aw, no, Tony’s Katniss jokes are starting to stick - to try and get more information out of the baddie du jour, far from it, actually. This is, however, the first time he’s semi-voluntarily allowed himself to be whisked away to the lair of a delusional wizard in a box made of LEGO, like some sort of fuckleberry dumbass. 

‘Fuckleberry dumbass?’

‘Aw, Barnes, no. I forgot you were there, man. It’s been a minute since I had someone else in my head and I am sorta outta practice, sorry.’ Clint really hopes Barnes can’t tell how startled he is. 

‘You know I know what you’re thinking right? Not just when you are thinking at me, but all the time.’

‘I, uh, yes? But also no, because I don’t think about it? Has it gone away since it started? When did it even start?’

Obviously, Bucky knows that Clint got every thought that crossed his mind, but he can’t focus on that, not right now. It’s too much. All of this is much too much. 

‘Barnes? Are you Ok?’ Somehow even Clint’s thoughts sound concerned, and Bucky can’t deal with that at all. 

‘Later. Heart to heart or brain to brain or whatever the fuck this is later. Preferably never. Let’s just say that I hate this, but it is actually a pretty useful tool, so let’s make use of it. Where are you?’

Clint was thrown for a loop; it really feels like he can- see? hear? feel? Whatever, fucking something is making Clint understand that Bucky is panting, frayed around the edges, and maybe getting worse. He needs to fix that, but he doesn’t know how or why he wants to. 

‘You calling me a tool, Barnes?’ Clint tries to think a smirk along with it, but that just seems weird. ‘Fuck, this is all weird and off-putting.’

Clint feels-? Fuck it, he’s going with feel, because this whole thing is weird but the best he can make sense of any of this is that he hears thoughts and feels tone, which isn’t emotion but is something? Fuck this is strange. 

‘Yes, this is incredibly fuckin’ strange, Clint, and yes, I am definitely calling you a tool. Now, where are you?’ 

Bucky’s thoughts had provided a nice temporary distraction from the fact that not only does Clint have no earthly idea where he is, or even that he may not be on earth - because fuck wizards forever and ever, seriously - but that he has absolutely no way of knowing. The tide of LEGO that had shackled and delivered him to the wizard has reconfigured itself into a completely enclosed box. Clint takes some quick measurements and finds that the top of the box is about four inches or so above his head, and that if he puts one elbow against the wall, the other elbow can almost, but not quite, touch the other side. It’s pitch black and he can’t hear or smell anything. He runs his hand along the wall and feels the occasional sharp corner or scraggly edge of a lego brick, but that’s it. Even he isn’t stupid enough to taste the walls, so that sense would remain an unknown, but other than that, it’s complete sensory deprivation. At least he isn’t still shackled. Small mercies, he guesses. 

In the five or so minutes since he was summoned by the wizard and sealed in his weird prison of children’s toys, he hasn’t felt the box move at all. There was no vibration like he was in a car, no rises or dips or turns or anything to indicate the box had moved at all, but since Bucky is asking, he must have. 

‘Yeah, obviously, you’re not here. The wizard did something, like a fancy smoke bomb or something, and when the smoke cleared you guys were gone. We didn’t see anything like a Lego box, though.’

‘If he can teleport, why the fuck did he get a parking ticket?’

‘Really, Barton? That’s your question here?’

‘It wasn’t, but now it is. Think about it, something had to have changed, right? Why would anyone mess with parking in Manhattan when they can just portal themselves and other things where they want to go? What changed? Did he get his powers overnight or something? Is that a thing? Do sorcerers have magical growth spurts?’

It isn’t that Bucky doesn’t get what Clint is saying, but something still feels hinkey about it. Still, it’s the closest he has to a lead, so he throws the question out to the team. 

“Shit!” Tony’s irritated outburst is punctuated by the armor’s face plate clanking shut. “Or he just started working with someone more powerful. Fucking sorcerers. I might know a guy. You guys work on finding literally any other course of action, while I’m off to see the Wizard. Well, another wizard.” With that he rockets upwards, leaving the rest team on the ground, bewildered. 

“That was weird, even for Tony.” Natasha states blandly, if a bit unnecessarily. “At least Clint is really hard to keep kidnapped.”

Bucky smirks at her words, but sobers almost immediately, when Steve says, “What if it isn’t someone powerful he just started working with, but something?” and all Bucky can think about is a damn staff that knocked him in the skull less than 24 hours ago. 

‘Barton!’

Clint startles awake having not realized he had fallen asleep to begin with, just with the quiet darkness and Bucky’s thoughts running in the back of his head like road noise it was hard not to. 

‘Huh?’ Clint’s brain stalls.

‘Are you alright? You were there and then you weren’t,’ Bucky’s concern radiates out of the question and goosebumps flush over Clint’s skin. It’s still the weirdest sensation to feel someone else’s emotions in his own head, especially when not only are they directed at him but about him, and he can’t help small thrill creeping up his spine. 

‘Tir- ‘ Clint leans back against his Lego prison trying to focus on something other than his reaction to Bucky when the box starts to tip. He tries to right himself to stop the box’s movement but it continues its downward trajectory, smashing into pieces against the floor.  
“Fuck, ow!” Clint sits up quickly trying to move himself away from what feels like a million of tiny little sharp Lego edges digging into every injury he has on his back. 

‘Clint!’

‘I’m ok, my Lego box fell and those little bastards are sharp, but I’m out,’ Clint looks around warily, taking in his surroundings. This was not what he was expecting for a lair of Glornak the Great. ‘Woah’

‘The box fell over? You couldn’t have used that to escape earlier? What do you see?’ Bucky’s frustration is palpable.

‘I tried! The box wouldn’t move before, something changed.’ Clint shakes his head and winces. ‘I have just stepped into an episode of Hoarders, there is shit everywhere. Antiques I think?’ 

There is very little light coming in from the windows because they are covered in heavy drapes to block out the light, and the room smells heavily of dust and old books. There are stacks of books, magazines, plates, glassware and furniture haphazardly arranged throughout the room. It’s surprising that there had been room for the Lego box to stand, nevermind fall over. Clint struggles to stand up, everything in his body aching as he squints around the room, but there’s nothing to really help him identify where he is or where Glornak went. He checks himself over, cataloging his missing weapons in his head.

‘All your weapons are here Clint, they were left in a pile on the ground when you disappeared,’ Bucky answers Clint’s question before he even asks it. 

Clint has a multitude of things he wants to ask Bucky but he can feel his attention being drawn away somewhere else, leaving him somewhat alone to figure out where he is. Clint sighs, moving carefully out of the room keeping an eye out for any exits or surprises. He finds that the rest of the apartment is in much of the same state as the room that he exited, every nook and cranny filled with stuff making the whole thing into a giant, treacherous maze of useless things. Clint groans, finally spotting another door after what feels like an eternity of wandering back and forth cursing and stumbles into the kitchen. This is the only room that isn’t filled to the rafters with stuff, but looking around, the small kitchen table draws Clint’s attention. It’s nestled up against the wall just to the left of the doorway and littered with papers. Clint moves over to shuffle through them. finding one with a name and an address. Is this who Glornak the Great is or did he drop Clint somewhere else? 

‘Barnes? I think I got something, can you look up Harold Ward, current address 8301 Logan Road, Brooklyn?’ 

Clint feels Bucky’s laser focus snap to him as questions start filtering towards him. ‘Is that where you are? Are you still there? Is that the wizard’s name? Is he there there? Where is the staff?’

‘Uhh, I think so, yes, maybe, haven’t seen him and no idea?’ Clint is getting the creeping feeling that while he was trapped in the maze, a lot of things had happened that Bucky was not telling him. 

‘What’s going on?’ He presses, knowing that Bucky already knows his suspicion but is choosing not to comment. 

‘Bucky? Come on, tell me what the fuck is going on?’ Clint can feel a small spark of warmth coming from Bucky at the familiarity of Clint using his first name, before it’s quickly shut down.

‘Bucky!’ 

‘Just give me a minute,’ Bucky snaps back causing Clint to huff in annoyance. 

Clint moves away from the table towards the kitchen window just on the other side of the table, finding that not only is it painted shut, removing the possibility for a quiet get away, but that the apartment is high enough that he would injure himself even more if he jumped. He makes a quick search of the kitchen drawers, finding a knife with really poor balance that would do more harm to himself than good, and a heavy wooden spoon. 

“Something is better than nothing,” he says to himself, flipping the spoon in his hand in a nervous gesture before moving out of the kitchen into the hallway to the right of the doorway he just came out of. The apartment is eerily quiet and Clint would have to bet that Glornak -or Harold or whatever his name is- isn’t here at the moment. 

‘Stark went to Dr Strange, he suspects that the staff that Glornak has is a lost artifact called Desire’s Pillar but it’s supposed to be fairly harmless unless it’s being misused,’ Bucky voice comes back to Clint, feeling forcedly calm. 

‘Misused how?’

‘If more than one person uses it at the same time, it’s supposed to cause madness.’’

‘Madness? WHY?’

‘He said to discourage overuse and that the stone in it doesn’t like to feel exploited.’

‘The stone has feelings?!’

‘That’s what he said.’

‘What’s it supposed to be used for?!”

‘It was supposed to help people fulfill their latent needs’

‘Wait? Glornak had the staff first, shouldn’t we be going crazy?’

‘Strange said the stone had to be touched, I think you hit me with it,’ there is a brief pause before Bucky continues ‘FRIDAY confirms Harold and Glornak are the same person.’

Before Clint can ask any more questions there’s a loud popping noise and Glornak the Great is standing in the hallway, looking surprised that Clint isn’t where he left him. 

“That's not where I left you,” Glornak says. Bucky must feel the spike of alarm that goes through him because there's a corresponding frisson of worry that echoes back. Ugh, now he's like double panicked and he can't be panicking, he's got shit to do. 

‘Sitrep, now,’ Barnes voice says. 

Wizard back Clint manages to think before he speaks out loud to Glornak. 

“That box wasn't exactly comfortable,” Clint says warily. “So, this is your lair? It's...dusty.”

Glornak bristles. “Just because I don't live in some fancy tower-” 

“I live in an apartment in Bed Stuy,” Clint holds a pacifying hand up, wishing desperately for his bow, then realises he's still got the wooden spoon in hand. He quickly whips it behind his back, pasting a winning smile on his face. 

“So, what do you wanna do? Write a speech? A letter to the NYPD?”

“A letter to your stupid flag wearing friend,” Glornak spits, turning on his heel and marching away. He beckons for Clint to follow and so he does, crunching his way through the lego pieces of his former prison. It feels like he’s edging his way through the goddamn Room of Requirement, though significantly less cool.

The room of what? Bucky’s voice says.

Harry Potter. Read it.

Too busy trying to get to you, Bucky says tersely. I'm in the way. 

Clint’s a little startled by the determination with which it’s said. Why is Barnes so fixated on getting him out of here? He’s been through worse. ‘Don't sweat it, I got this.’ 

Enough of the bullshit, I can feel how freaked you are. This damn connection is getting stronger. 

Yeah and I can tell how freaked you are by that, Clint counters. He turns his attention away from the presence in his mind and back to Glornak as Glornak gestures to a table with two rickety chairs next to it and an ancient china tea-set on top. He slides into the chair, looking around for windows and egress points, feeling increasingly claustrophobic amongst the towering piles of antiques. 

Barton, keep calm.

“Why do you even give a shit?” Clint bursts out and then resists the urge to bang his head against the table as Glornak pauses in his pouring of the tea, looking affronted. 

“Because he said I was an idiot!”

“Yeah but he dresses as a flag,” Clint says. “Who needs the opinion of an idiot who dresses in a flag?”

‘Harsh,’ Bucky says. ‘And believe it or not, I do care.’

‘About me?’

‘About more than you think I do,’ Bucky says. ‘Right, sit very still, otherwise we might not be able to find out if you are something I can learn to care about too.’

“What?” Clint says aloud.

“What?” Glornak echoes.

There’s two loud and familiar cracks and Clint automatically lunges off his chair and to the floor, lifting his hands to cover his head, hitting the floor hard even as Glornak starts to scream. A louder crash follows and Clint hears someone shouting his name.

“Barton?!”

And that’s Bucky’s voice, not in his head but in the room.

“Rescue party, right on time.” Clint scrambles to his feet and sees Glornak kneeling, curled over the bloody mess of his hand, which appears to have two rather nasty looking bullet holes in. Clint immediately dives for the staff, snatching it up and holding it close to his chest. 

Heart thudding madly, he looks up to see Bucky round the corner, sniper rifle casually resting on his shoulder. He’s pretty relieved to see him; so relieved in fact, that Bucky actually smiles, evidently having felt it too.

“Glad to see me?”

“See that’s unfair,” Clint says, taking the rifle as Bucky hands it over, freeing his hands so he can cuff Glornak. He’s still wailing and sobbing and is altogether not a very pretty sight.

“What’s unfair?”

“I can’t lie, you’ll know.”

Bucky hauls Glornak to his feet, looks up at Clint. His expression has gone back to being too serious. “You know that works both ways,” he says. “So maybe you should realise that I’m not just the sullen hardass that you like to make me out as.”

“Uh,” Clint says, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “Maybe we’re both due a reevaluation?”

Bucky just stares at him long and hard before turning away, shoving Glornak ahead of him. Outside, Clint can hear the telltale sounds of the rest of the Avengers arriving; the blasting of repulosrs and the clang of the shield. 

“Maybe we do,” Bucky’s voice says. He sounds sad, somehow. “Now let’s get out of this shithole. Bring that staff and do not take your eyes off it.”

“Yes boss,” Clint says, and follows.

If you were to ask him, Clint wouldn’t be able to explain why he was having such a hard time walking away from this kidnapping. Figuratively speaking, of course; there were plenty of kidnappings in his past he had been literally unable to walk away from.

‘Real reassuring, Barton.’ Bucky’s thoughts came through with a bit of humor and a lot of something that felt dangerously like concern. Clint decides to drop that train of thought as he follows Bucky onto the quinjet. As it turned out, the space between them and the angle of the ramp left Clint with a perfect view of Bucky’s equally perfect ass.

Bucky snorts a laugh. ‘Perfect, huh?’

‘Fuck off forever, Barnes. Can’t you just, like, ignore it or something?’

Bucky’s reply was to think hard about the most recent episode of Dog Cops, which he knew Clint hadn’t seen yet.

“You’re a fucking asshole, Barnes,” Clint huffs as he shoulders past Bucky and Harold to take a seat on the jet.

“Apparently I am a perfect fucking asshole.”

“Ugh. I’m walking back to the tower. I need to…” Clint trails off, “I need to clear my head or something.” He stands up, but before he can take a step Steve is in front of him with a big hand on his shoulder, holding him in place with a disturbing lack of effort expended on Steve’s part.

“No, you aren’t.” Steve tells him, in full Cap voice. “You are still concussed, and you just went through some magical fuckery. You’re staying here until we get back to the tower, and then you are going straight back to medical.”

“Cap said ‘fuckery’!” Clint says in pathetic attempt of distraction or diversion or something to get him away from the uncomfortable weirdness that is threatening to drown him.

“Good, you can hear. The magic didn’t fry your aides! One less thing to worry about!” Steve beams, the Cap voice is gone, now it’s just Steve being a troll and messing with him. “Now sit down and strap in so we can get this wrapped up and behind us.”

“Fine. Can someone at least get me up to speed, then? Where are we? What happened?”

“Like you ever know what’s going on,” Natasha says breezily as she strides onto the jet. “You’ll get the full sitrep when we get back to the tower, but here’s the quick and dirty: we’re in Cypress Hills in Brooklyn, it’s been about six hours since you were whisked away in the Lego cage by a fledgling sorcerer named Glornak who is better known as Harold from accounts payable at Royal Realty and Property Management, Strange is working on the magic side of things, and you are hiding something.” She sits across from Clint and levels him with a withering stare. “Oh, and Tony lost a fight with a cape. Questions?”

“Yes. Lots of them. You will definitely have to fill me in on the cape thing, but first give me the rundown on the magical bullshit?”

“Magical bullshit. Exactly, Robin,” Tony chirps cheerfully from somewhere off to his left.

“What the fuck, Tony? Where did you come from? Also, Robin? That better be as in ‘Hood’ and not “Boy Wonder.’”

“You wound me, Errol. Of course it is ‘Hood.’ And, for the record, I walked onto the jet, just like you did. Looks, like you’re still a little out of it, but I guess that’s to be expected. Anyway,” Tony drops into the seat next to Clint, “our wannabe warlock is just that, according to FRIDAY and Strange, at least. He went from checking spell books out of the library to wielding the magical staff of +10 irritation overnight, as far as we can tell. Strange has been working on figuring out how he got his hands on the Desire’s Pillar, that’s the name of the magic log, and is confident that he had no idea what it actually was.”

“What makes Strange think that?”

“Well, the point of the thing is to fulfill the wielder’s every desire, conscious or otherwise. If the wizardling knew that, it seems like he would just wish the parking ticket away, rather than cause a ruckus at the police station. Strange’s analysis is that he was using the staff as some sort of – these are his words, and I cannot believe I am saying them – ‘magical foci’” Tony gags around the words before continuing, “that pinpointed his magic, but had nothing to do with want so much as intention. Magical. Bullshit. And it gets worse. Apparently, the stick is powered by that fancy stone at the top there, but at least this one isn’t an infinity stone. Just an ordinary magical bullshit.”

“Great,” Clint mumbles to himself. “Now vanilla magic rocks can fuck with my head, not just the fundamental power of the universe ones.”

Clint thought he’d spoken quietly enough, but the way Steve’s head snaps up and head swivels towards him with an intense glare already in place was enough to tell him that he wasn’t. At least, he wasn’t quiet enough for Super Soldier ears. “What was that, Clint?”

Aw, Steve, no. “Nothing, just thinking out loud.” The skeptical look on Steve’s face spoke volumes, all of which were about not believing him. “Ok, fine. I am just not real excited about the idea of another rock that can fuck around in my head. Tried it once, not a fan. 0 of 10, would not recommend.”

Steve still looked unsure, but shrugs and lets the issue drop, which is good enough for now.

“Nothing to worry about, Loxley, it’s not like you touched it. You should be in the clear,” Tony said absently as he messes with his phone.

Clint let his head fall back against the seat and starts to relax a little when he heard a low, gravelly “but I did” rumble out from somewhere behind Steve on the quinjet off ramp.

Well, fuck.

Bucky can feel the shock radiating from Clint as all eyes turn to him with laser focus, there is a moment of silence before everything erupts into noise. Bucky internally cringes Steve and Tony start talking over each other with questions, his admission drawing attention away from Clint like he intended. 

‘What the hell did you do that for?’ Clint’s demands, a feeling of panic drifting into Bucky’s head behind the words.

Bucky is aware that Natasha is carefully watching everything from her seat, while Steve and Tony conversation is quickly devolving into an argument on what to do. 

‘I was trying to distract them,’ Bucky quietly answers back, trying to think of something to bring this situation back on track. ‘You were uncomfortable and it was the only thing I could think of’

‘Why? We could have learned more about the staff before…,” mixed emotions come to Bucky in waves, panic, annoyance and is that gratitude?

‘Before what Clint? Sooner we deal with the staff the sooner we deal with this’

‘Oh,’ and all Bucky can feel is the hurt surrounding that simple reply.

‘Clint, that’s not what I meant!,’ Bucky tries to respond but it feels like he’s hitting a wall ‘Clint!’ but there is no acknowledgement coming from the other man.

Bucky pushes Harold forward bring Steve’s and Tony’s attention back to their detainee. “Maybe we should be securing him and contacting Strange?” he growls before pointedly looking at Natasha “And secure the staff?”

There is a collective pause before everyone starts moving again. Steve take’s Harold’s arm with a frown, the glint in his eye telling Bucky that this conversation is NOT over yet before moving him to be seated and strapped down. Natasha smoothly moves over to Clint placing her hand lightly on his forearm to get his attention before taking the staff from his tight grip, he smiles weakly at her before letting go. Bucky glances at Clint trying to get his attention but Clint continues to ignore him as Bucky moves to sit down in the seat Natasha just vacated. 

Tony stands up casually pocketing his phone and ignoring the fact that Bucky had just snapped at him, “I’ll contact Strange and meet everyone back at the Tower” He moves past Clint and then turns himself around, walking backwards towards the off ramp “I got my own ride, you kids fly safe,” and with a playful wink Tony saunters out of the quinjet. 

-*-

“Hey,” Natasha pops her head into Clint’s room. It had been about an hour since they had arrived back at the Tower and Cap made good on his threat to take Clint directly back to medical. 

Clint startles from his daydream and focuses on Natasha, “Breaking me out of here, Tasha?” he asks hopefully with a tired smile.

Natasha steps into the room and leans against the wall with a small smirk “If you call escorting you to a conference room with the rest of the team to chat with Dr. Strange a break, sure”

Clint visibly deflates, while the staff has been nothing but trouble he’s not sure how he feels about losing the connection he just found, it was scary as hell but also more comforting than he’s willing to admit. Natasha stays where she is for a moment watching Clint before moving to sit on the side of his bed.

“You can tell me you know,” she speaks softly like he’s a spooked animal.

Clint stares at her for a long moment before the dam breaks “After the first fight, with the explosion, Bucky must have touched the stone but I didn’t know it at the time and now we can hear what each other thinks and we can talk and I wasn’t sure at first but then it kept happening and that’s how Bucky knew where to find me because I was able to get out of the lego box and found an address and”

Natasha lays her hand on Clints arm and squeezes “Take a breath”

Clint stops, breathing in deeply watching Natasha’s face as he does, he didn’t mean for it all to come out that way but keeping it in was just too much. 

“Bucky, huh? That’s new,” Natasha smirks at him watching his cheeks start to turn pink. 

“Uhh,” Clint struggles to come up with an explanation. He knows that Natasha can read him like a book. 

Natasha levels him with a -stop panicking and listen to me carefully- stare. “I think you will find this is something worth the risk Clint, take the jump” 

Clint stares back confused. Natasha sighs, raising her eyebrow at him. “Clint, you’re smarter than this, now get dressed the team is waiting for us”

-*-

Everyone is seated in the conference room, the staff sitting on the table in front of Dr Strange. Clint is trying not to fidget in his chair but can’t help himself, rocking back and forth or side to side beside Bucky while glaring at Natasha. She had purposely forced him to sit beside Bucky having given up on the soft, subtle approach for tough love. Clint knew she was just trying to help but he couldn’t help the nervousness swirling in his stomach with his proximity to Bucky. 

‘Will you stop fidgeting?’ Bucky’s annoyance is heavy in Clint’s mind

Clint glances towards Bucky quickly and then looks down, forcing himself to stop rocking in his chair. He’s trying his best to not let anything through the bond and how he’s terrified of losing it.

“I have communicated with the stone, it’s been very informative,” Dr Strange speaks, addressing everyone in the room. “It seems that our would be wizard discovered the staff while helping with a routine inspection for a private property sale and he stole it.”

Clint’s nervous energy is soon too much and he starts bouncing his legs quickly under the table, trying to concentrate on the conversation and ignore the frown forming on Bucky’s face.

“Is that all the stone told you? Barnes said he touched it,” Steve glares at Bucky.

Clint continues to fidget, spacing out from the conversation as his brain starts to spiral into panic. It’s all over now, they’ll find a way to break the link and he’ll be alone, it’ll all go back to the way it was. 

“The stone acknowledges this truth, it’s magic will stay in effect until the need that put it’s magic to use is met,” Strange confirms. 

‘Clint? What’s wrong?’ Bucky’s voice no longer sounds annoyed in his head ‘Clint?’ the concern should be overwhelming but Clint is too lost in his own thoughts. The world shifts and alarm blares in his mind as Bucky comes in view, having swiveled Clint’s chair to face him, a warm hand sliding against cheeky. “Clint?” Bucky’s familiar gravelly voice meets Clint’s ears. Clint blinks at him a couple of times before his eyes begin to focus. ‘I got you, stop panicking, I’m not going anywhere, telepathically bonded or not’ Clint looks into Bucky’s eyes and feels like he’s being swept away into deceptively deep water and takes a shaky breath. ‘I’m not going anywhere either Bucky,’ he replies before leaning in and brushing his lips softly against Bucky’s. 

“Finally!” Natasha exclaims throwing her hands up in triumph, Tony and Steve are looking dumbfounded around the room. Bucky and Clint turn to glare at her as the staff gives off a pulse of light that makes the room glow yellow before it abruptly fades. 

Dr Strange smirks “Well looks like the stone is finished it’s business and so am I, thank you for retrieving this lost artifact, I’ll be one my way,” before anyone can really protest Dr Strange opens up a portal and steps through with the staff in hand and the portal snaps closed behind him.

“Rude”, Tony finally finds something to say as he turns to look at Bucky and Clint preparing to say something sarcastic towards them but they’re lost in each other, talking quietly. 

“No sex in my conference room, you have your own apartment for that,” Tony states matter-of-factly without receiving any acknowledgement “You know what, I’m getting out of here, Friday have this room cleaned extra well once they leave. Natasha? Cap? Drinks in the penthouse? I feel like Natasha knows more than meets the eye”

Clint and Bucky are left alone in the conference room, speaking quietly to each other and trading kisses and while the telepathic bond slowly dissolves but it turns out, it’s not as frightening as Clint thought it would be, not at all.


End file.
